Maquia

An animated film of adult appeal centred on the bond between mother and child.

Japan's
standing as a prime source of outstanding animated films shows no sign
of declining. The latest such piece to reach us is Maquia: When the Promised Flower Blooms,
which is self-evidently a highlight in the career of Okada Mari. She
has long been a noted figure in the field of anime both in cinema and
television but her work has been as a writer. Now she directs a feature
from a screenplay of her own for the first time and the result,
although imperfect, is nevertheless a striking work.

The
fantasy world in which this film is set features a heroine who, along
with other members of her clan, works at a loom but is aware of a
special destiny since this clan has the secret of eternal life and will
never grow old. However, that fact leads to an attack from a kingdom of
mortals in quest of this hidden knowledge and both our heroine, Maquia,
and her friend, Leilia, find themselves transported to the land of the
Mezarte. Its prince takes Leilia as his wife, but the central focus is
on Maquia and on what happens when she comes across a baby without a
future. She takes this foundling boy, gives him the name of Erial and
proceeds to bring him up as though he were her own child.

Not so long ago another Japanese anime, Your Name,
had a love story at its centre and so does this one. But here it is the
love between somebody who assumes the role of a mother and the child
for whom she cares. Ultimately, Leilia's tale will also lead in this
direction, but it is Maquia and Erial who are the crucial figures. As
Erial grows towards manhood, their relationship reflects some of the
familiar tensions that frequently arise between a mother and an
adolescent child, but there's an extra poignancy here in that Maquia,
who has been warned against loving an ordinary human, realises that
because Erial will age normally she is bound to outlive him and feel
the loss.

Okada's
film is not without action and spectacle but its unusual focus makes it
an intimate work which gains from the way in which it encourages the
audience to reflect in their own way on the emotional implications.
Furthermore, if the character drawing is able but unexceptional, the
background images show rare richness and imagination as they create a
world far removed from the Japanese setting of most animated films from
that country. The film's individuality is so pleasing that it looked as
though it might turn out to be a masterpiece despite the rather wide
range of characters that the viewer has to take on board. However, a
drawn-out finale replete with flashbacks makes the running time of 114
minutes seem overlong and, even more seriously, the emotional restraint
that has unexpectedly characterised the film to its great advantage
gives way to a bout of sentimentality late on. Even so, much of this
film works beautifully and it is supported by a very apt music score
from Kawai Kenji.